Hey, all!
Okay, I finally got another one out, even with double overtime. I'm pretty amazed, since I worked through the weekend. I'll do my best to keep it up!
Sorry for the delay. I want this story to end just so. And, alas, we are nearing the end of Meant to Be.
But, stay tuned as we're almost at the searing climax (what? It can be searing!).
Enjoy and remember, feedback fuels the Muse!
Cheery Vibes Nimue "Though she be but little, she is fierce." William Shakespeare – A Midsummer Night's Dream
www.livejournal (dot) com/users/nimuetucker/ AlwaysEveryday (at) HowtoMakeaVampireSundae (at)
Title: Choosing Home(Chapter Thirty-seven - Meant to Be)
Author: Nimue
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)
Feedback: Yes, please NimueofAvalon71 (at)
Disclaimer: All characters belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, UPN, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::
Summary: Angel and Company raid the mansion, however, they take a casualty. Spike and Joyce conclude their conversation, but there's still work to be done. Choices to be made.
Choosing Home
"Fan out!" Angel ordered as the Vampires around them began to take notice. Most of them seemed young to the eldest of the Aurelians. But there were a few that dated a bit older than himself.
And Spike had said something about powers....
The three human men in the entourage obeyed, spreading themselves behind Angel. Gunn behind and to the left. Wesley behind and to the right. Xander turning to face the rear, his back to Angel.
Colourful eyes began to shift to gold, pair by pair, as if the room was filling with hungry jungle cats. "What do we do now, boss?" Gunn asked.
"Uh, FIGHT!" Xander expelled in his most girly horror movie voice possible, as a small cadre moved on him in a flash.
Before Angel could turn around and help the boy, some of the older ones descended upon him, seemingly from the ceiling of the great room. Wesley spun, first moving towards Angel, and then deciding if either one needed help, it was Xander.
Gunn's face turned from jovial to rock hard in a moment and he swung the axe from his shoulder with a huff of air, beginning to cut a swath through the dead souls descending upon them in droves.
For all of his screaming and his faux-cowardice, Xander knew his place in the fight. Knew his way with weapons. Had learned from watching and from doing. He'd even swallowed his pride and taken fighting lessons from Spike while he was teaching Dawn. When the third Vampire grabbed onto the boy, he snarled, tossing the axe to Wesley and grabbing for the more maneuverable stake tucked in the back of his jeans.
No one was taking him away from his family.
No one.
With a growl of effort, Xander lunged forward and jabbed the wood into the heart of one of the fledglings, watching it poof into dust. With a kick, he pushed back another. Too many, he thought. Too many. One grabbed him around the neck and lunged forward, sharp teeth prickling at the soft skin of the boy's neck.
No one, he thought again, struggling to gain purchase.
As the Vampire moved forward to bite, a white-hot light shot from Xander's skin. Like contact sunlight, frying the undead Lothario mid-bite.
Wesley turned from his own battle at the flash of light and saw a dazed Xander chuckling nervously.
"Did you see that?"
"Yes," Wesley answered simply, suddenly feeling a wash of confidence. Tara had done more than she expected. Packed more of a punch in her desperation to do this right.
"Was that the ward?" Gunn asked, chopping his way through a line of Vampires on his way to Angel's side.
Wesley nodded, tossing Xander's axe back to him and drawing a sword from a sheath on the wall. Vampires always had convenient decorations. "Tara's will, and her wording of the spell, must have created more than just a shield around us."
"It's made us unbeatable?" Angel grunted as he kicked a younger Vampire back against a wall a good thirty feet south.
"No," Wesley responded, backing up against Xander and beginning to fight the pair's way over to where Angel was taking on the older Vampires two at a time. "It doesn't seem to have increased our strength or speed or made us incapable of being defeated. What it does seem to have accomplished is to truly protect us, physically, from any harm traditionally inflicted by a Vampire."
"They can't bite us," Gunn summarized, swinging in a circle and taking out three Vampires in the process.
"Can't protect us from you, Gunn," Xander heaved, ducking out of the way of the circling axe. "Watch the friendlies."
"Sorry, man,' Gunn replied, working his way towards the back wall and, presumably, the basement entrance. Angel already stood by the door, fighting off the minions with only a stake.
With the way they were defending that entrance, there must be something to protect, Angel thought as the three humans slowly made their way towards him. Maybe the Master himself.
"Think our boy's down there?" Gunn called out, kicking the legs out from under a Vampire as another jumped on his back and got a blinding dose of sunlight when his fangs pricked his skin.
Angel nodded and drove a stake through another minion's heart. "I know Spike said that this Master has got some sort of mojo, but man does he need to teach his boys to fight better."
"Ha!" Xander panted, kicking away another minion and dancing with a startling lack of grace away from the third. "Don't jinx it, broody."
"Hate it when you call me that," Angel responded, knocking another Vamp to the floor and stomping on his neck. "I'm not broody."
"Uh, boss?" Gunn snarked, a smile coming back to his handsome face. "You are a little glum at times."
Even Wesley chuckled. This wasn't going to be the nightmare it had first looked to be.
Tara knelt in the courtyard, completely involved in the spell. Eyes shut, mouth moving in a rhythmic chant. Willow had worked on the basic spell, but she'd toyed with it a bit. She hoped, hearing the snarling and roaring and crashing from inside, that the sunlight bit had worked in the manner she'd meant it.
Cordelia paced behind her, boots clacking against the concrete. Angry utterances spilled from her lips, none of which disturbed the Witch. Cordy wanted to be inside. In the thick of it. Helping her friends. Fighting beside her mate. If anyone understood that, it was the Sunnydale crew.
Note to self: when concentration isn't so important, work on a way to disassemble that happiness clause, Tara thought. Sex wasn't everything, no. But it sure made life a little less... tense.
Suddenly, a sharp intake of breath behind her caught Tara's attention. She tried to remain focused on the spell. Tried to keep the chant. Tried not to...
But then something warm and wet splashed down onto her hand and the Witches' eyes opened with a start. Blood dripped from her open palms to the cold concrete.
Not hers.
With a gasp, Tara turned and saw Cordelia as she dropped to the ground, a tall, dark haired Vampire standing behind her with a dagger coated in crimson.
"You will take me to the One now," the dark haired one stated simply, letting Cordelia slide to a puddle at his feet. "No more delays. Your... friends... will have to make do on their own."
Tara stared in horror at the beauty queen on the ground, a dark pool of deep red spreading slowly from her back. "I...I..."
"Now," the dark Vampire commanded, grabbing Tara by the hair. "And you will have your mate disarm their fortress, or I will kill her too."
Spike stood, staring blankly at Joyce. He hadn't prepared an answer for that. To be honest, he hadn't really considered the thought that she'd tell him no and decide to go anyway.
Was that what she was saying?
"Grandmother?" Emma interrupted softly.
"What if I say no?" Joyce asked. "What if I decide ... What if I want to see my baby again? What if I want to see the World? What if I want to see Dawn get married, even if I'd be too young to remember it? What if I want to wrap my arms around Buffy again? What if that's more important to me than... than...? World Peace?" Her voice cracked and wavered as tears decided when to fall. With a sigh, the woman wrapped her arms around herself and stood, planting bare feet in sugar brown soil. "What if I want to go home?"
Spike stared at his own feet, watching the toes of his boots as if they held the answers. To be honest, it was much simpler than that. He knew if he looked at Joyce, he'd cry. Maybe he was tough. Maybe he was part of the most strength and valour the World had to offer...
...but the Summers girls always had his heart, and their hearts were in his care. And breaking even one of them – hell, even making one of them anything but happy – broke a part of himself.
"S'not about World Peace to me either, Joyce," Spike responded solemnly, still staring at the toes of his boots. "Wish I could be all Prince Valiant and tell you it was about saving the World and allowing Emma to meet her destiny. Wish I could tell you that I was so noble as to be willing to sacrifice it all to end strife and all that superhero rubbish." With enormous effort, Spike stood, the weight of all the Worlds crashing down on his shoulders at the thought of disappointing this one woman.
This one woman who'd given him solace.
He turned towards her. Joyce was standing facing away from him with her face towards the mists from whence Spike and Emma had come. Tentatively, he held out his hand, drew it back again, and then summoned the courage to place his palm on her shoulder and turn her lightly to face him.
Which made it even harder.
Golden tears streamed down Joyce's face, leaving glimmering trails of heartbreak. Beautiful, kind eyes brimmed full, the corners spilling under the weight of sadness. Spike felt his own heart breaking watching her struggle. She shouldn't have to. This woman should be the Queen of that house, her Princesses at her side. Not a distant audience to some cosmic play.
But it didn't change the facts.
"S'not about that, Joyce," Spike finally said, his own eyes brimming. "If it were up to me, I'd have you all there for all eternity. You. Buffy. Dawn. The little ones." He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before continuing. "S'not up to me though. I didn't make the rules, nor did you, or Emma, or any of us. But they're ours to play by, nonetheless. But it's not about the future history of the World. Not to me. Not to you."
"What is it about then?" Joyce asked, her voice raw and cracked.
"S'about a child," Spike answered, simply, trying to be as honest as he could. "S'about my child. My children. Buffy's. Were it just about the fate of the Universe, I'd be tempted to say bugger it all and come back to us. But the fact of the matter is, if you do come home... if we could have you with us again... it wouldn't be you. Not completely. Those two demon gits would have control of you again. And they'd make you do things...."
Joyce shuddered, a distant, vague memory of what had happened in the past floating through her soul.
"And they'd have you kill Emma, Joyce. Or try. They'd have you kill Buffy. And I... I love you, you know that?" His voice was beginning to shake as his thoughts began to spiral into horror.
Joyce nodded, her hand over her mouth, considering the consequences of her refusal. "I know."
"But I couldn't let you do that. I wouldn't let you. And I couldn't... I'd never want to bear the weight of stopping you. And you - you wouldn't, you couldn't live with what you'd done. Not you. Not someone like you."
Joyce nodded, a fresh stream of tears carving a path through the ethereal gold of her skin. "I don't want to hurt her. I don't want to hurt any of you. I just... I want to go home, Spike."
With a sigh, he drew her to him, folding her into his arms. "There isn't a day that goes by, Joyce, that you aren't there. That you aren't remembered. So much of you is in them. The way Buffy gets Emma to school. The way Dawn brushes her hair a hundred strokes a night before she goes to bed. Emma's smile." He swallowed, remembering the nights Joyce had fed him hot chocolate and given him a chance to be himself. To be the walking Hallmark card that no one else could have understood at that point. Another crushing blow to his heart.
"You'll love them enough for both of us?" The woman asked, pulling away and trying to adopt her best Brave Little Toaster face.
Spike smiled. "That I will."
Joyce closed her eyes, and with a deep intake of breath, she looked at her family. Emma stood quietly behind her father, the perfect mix of both of her parents. Spike stared at her, wet eyed and kind, even behind the blustery bravado that they all had known in the beginning. Pleading. Hoping. Hating that they had to do either.
"I won't go," Joyce finally said quietly. "I'll stay here."
With a flash, the sky lit to a brilliant purple and a winged horse split through the dusky clouds, gliding to the brown sugar soil and landing in a cloud of golden dust.
Graceful and lithe, the Sky Queen alighted, her tanned bare feet barely marking the ground on which she stood. "It is a wise and kindly choice, my child. One for which you will be rewarded."
A small child, no more than six or seven, dropped down from the winged horse's back after the Queen with the grace of a tiny ballerina. The girl stood next to the Pegasus, well behind the Queen, shy and frightened and lost.
"My Queen," both Joyce and Emma said, dropping into a bow. Spike rolled his eyes and then dropped his head in reverence.
"No need for that," the Queen answered, tipping up Spike's chin with her fingers, before kissing both Emma and Joyce on the cheek and raising them to their feet. "Joyce, as you have made an excruciating decision, and deserve a rest, I ask if you would like to join me in the castle for a while. I have made accommodations, and you should find someone there waiting for you there to ease your pain."
A small smile crossed the woman's face. "Buffy?"
The Queen nodded and Spike stiffened. "You... you can't... you..."
"Not that one, father, "Emma answered smiling.
"There's more than one?" Spike asked, spinning to face his daughter. "And the World hasn't imploded?"
With a chuckle, the Queen intervened. "Part of her was left behind when she died. The part that was a fully human girl. Emma can explain that further, I am sure. However, that part belongs solely to her Mother. I know she will be glad to have you back."
Joyce smiled again, tears still wet on her face. "Is she all right?"
"She's taken to playing with the creatures in the garden. I think she's quite happy," the Queen answered. "Although she will be happier now."
The Queen turned back to Spike. "However, as hard as this has been on all of you, you still have a job to do."
With a shudder, Spike considered what the new torture might be. "What now? Find my own mum and tell her she'll never see anyone she loves again?"
"Your mother is living happily in Wales at the moment. She's approximately sixteen Earth years old and likes Britney Spears and a boy named Ian."
Wide-eyed, Spike shook his head. "What have you done to her?!"
"Told you she liked recycling," Emma joked, wrapping her arms around her father's bicep and resting her head on his shoulder. "Most will come back many times over."
"Britney Spears?" Spike shuddered in disbelief.
The Queen smiled, giggling to herself. "Still, with Joyce having made her decision to remain here in order to protect our families, the task of choosing another soul to inhabit the body of your daughter now falls to you."
"Thought that's what you heavenly types did," Spike snarked, feeling Joyce lace her fingers through his and hold on for their last few moments.
With an air of mock annoyance, the Queen shook her head. "See if I bestow such graces on you in the future. It is an honour to choose." Again, the beautiful Queen smiled, sweeping her hand back towards her mount. "Although I did assume you'd say something like that, so I endeavoured to make your choice easier."
Spike furrowed his brow. "A horse? A defective one at that?"
The Pegasus pawed the ground and snorted. "I'm not defective, Vampire. No more than you are a defective Human."
That surprised Spike. Even the livestock had a voice in Heaven. "Apologies," the Vampire responded, bowing his head.
"Accepted," the Pegasus answered accordingly.
"Not the horse," the Queen interrupted, gesturing for the small child to approach. The little girl left the safety of the creature's wing and glided towards them, eyes huge with fear and confusion. A beautiful young girl.
And one whose familiarity went straight to Spike's heart.
"You recognize her, Spike?" Joyce asked knowingly.
Spike nodded, staring at the lovely child standing with her hand wrapped in the Queen's. "Yes, Pet. That I do."
To be contd.
Okay, I finally got another one out, even with double overtime. I'm pretty amazed, since I worked through the weekend. I'll do my best to keep it up!
Sorry for the delay. I want this story to end just so. And, alas, we are nearing the end of Meant to Be.
But, stay tuned as we're almost at the searing climax (what? It can be searing!).
Enjoy and remember, feedback fuels the Muse!
Cheery Vibes Nimue "Though she be but little, she is fierce." William Shakespeare – A Midsummer Night's Dream
www.livejournal (dot) com/users/nimuetucker/ AlwaysEveryday (at) HowtoMakeaVampireSundae (at)
Title: Choosing Home(Chapter Thirty-seven - Meant to Be)
Author: Nimue
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)
Feedback: Yes, please NimueofAvalon71 (at)
Disclaimer: All characters belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, UPN, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::
Summary: Angel and Company raid the mansion, however, they take a casualty. Spike and Joyce conclude their conversation, but there's still work to be done. Choices to be made.
Choosing Home
"Fan out!" Angel ordered as the Vampires around them began to take notice. Most of them seemed young to the eldest of the Aurelians. But there were a few that dated a bit older than himself.
And Spike had said something about powers....
The three human men in the entourage obeyed, spreading themselves behind Angel. Gunn behind and to the left. Wesley behind and to the right. Xander turning to face the rear, his back to Angel.
Colourful eyes began to shift to gold, pair by pair, as if the room was filling with hungry jungle cats. "What do we do now, boss?" Gunn asked.
"Uh, FIGHT!" Xander expelled in his most girly horror movie voice possible, as a small cadre moved on him in a flash.
Before Angel could turn around and help the boy, some of the older ones descended upon him, seemingly from the ceiling of the great room. Wesley spun, first moving towards Angel, and then deciding if either one needed help, it was Xander.
Gunn's face turned from jovial to rock hard in a moment and he swung the axe from his shoulder with a huff of air, beginning to cut a swath through the dead souls descending upon them in droves.
For all of his screaming and his faux-cowardice, Xander knew his place in the fight. Knew his way with weapons. Had learned from watching and from doing. He'd even swallowed his pride and taken fighting lessons from Spike while he was teaching Dawn. When the third Vampire grabbed onto the boy, he snarled, tossing the axe to Wesley and grabbing for the more maneuverable stake tucked in the back of his jeans.
No one was taking him away from his family.
No one.
With a growl of effort, Xander lunged forward and jabbed the wood into the heart of one of the fledglings, watching it poof into dust. With a kick, he pushed back another. Too many, he thought. Too many. One grabbed him around the neck and lunged forward, sharp teeth prickling at the soft skin of the boy's neck.
No one, he thought again, struggling to gain purchase.
As the Vampire moved forward to bite, a white-hot light shot from Xander's skin. Like contact sunlight, frying the undead Lothario mid-bite.
Wesley turned from his own battle at the flash of light and saw a dazed Xander chuckling nervously.
"Did you see that?"
"Yes," Wesley answered simply, suddenly feeling a wash of confidence. Tara had done more than she expected. Packed more of a punch in her desperation to do this right.
"Was that the ward?" Gunn asked, chopping his way through a line of Vampires on his way to Angel's side.
Wesley nodded, tossing Xander's axe back to him and drawing a sword from a sheath on the wall. Vampires always had convenient decorations. "Tara's will, and her wording of the spell, must have created more than just a shield around us."
"It's made us unbeatable?" Angel grunted as he kicked a younger Vampire back against a wall a good thirty feet south.
"No," Wesley responded, backing up against Xander and beginning to fight the pair's way over to where Angel was taking on the older Vampires two at a time. "It doesn't seem to have increased our strength or speed or made us incapable of being defeated. What it does seem to have accomplished is to truly protect us, physically, from any harm traditionally inflicted by a Vampire."
"They can't bite us," Gunn summarized, swinging in a circle and taking out three Vampires in the process.
"Can't protect us from you, Gunn," Xander heaved, ducking out of the way of the circling axe. "Watch the friendlies."
"Sorry, man,' Gunn replied, working his way towards the back wall and, presumably, the basement entrance. Angel already stood by the door, fighting off the minions with only a stake.
With the way they were defending that entrance, there must be something to protect, Angel thought as the three humans slowly made their way towards him. Maybe the Master himself.
"Think our boy's down there?" Gunn called out, kicking the legs out from under a Vampire as another jumped on his back and got a blinding dose of sunlight when his fangs pricked his skin.
Angel nodded and drove a stake through another minion's heart. "I know Spike said that this Master has got some sort of mojo, but man does he need to teach his boys to fight better."
"Ha!" Xander panted, kicking away another minion and dancing with a startling lack of grace away from the third. "Don't jinx it, broody."
"Hate it when you call me that," Angel responded, knocking another Vamp to the floor and stomping on his neck. "I'm not broody."
"Uh, boss?" Gunn snarked, a smile coming back to his handsome face. "You are a little glum at times."
Even Wesley chuckled. This wasn't going to be the nightmare it had first looked to be.
Tara knelt in the courtyard, completely involved in the spell. Eyes shut, mouth moving in a rhythmic chant. Willow had worked on the basic spell, but she'd toyed with it a bit. She hoped, hearing the snarling and roaring and crashing from inside, that the sunlight bit had worked in the manner she'd meant it.
Cordelia paced behind her, boots clacking against the concrete. Angry utterances spilled from her lips, none of which disturbed the Witch. Cordy wanted to be inside. In the thick of it. Helping her friends. Fighting beside her mate. If anyone understood that, it was the Sunnydale crew.
Note to self: when concentration isn't so important, work on a way to disassemble that happiness clause, Tara thought. Sex wasn't everything, no. But it sure made life a little less... tense.
Suddenly, a sharp intake of breath behind her caught Tara's attention. She tried to remain focused on the spell. Tried to keep the chant. Tried not to...
But then something warm and wet splashed down onto her hand and the Witches' eyes opened with a start. Blood dripped from her open palms to the cold concrete.
Not hers.
With a gasp, Tara turned and saw Cordelia as she dropped to the ground, a tall, dark haired Vampire standing behind her with a dagger coated in crimson.
"You will take me to the One now," the dark haired one stated simply, letting Cordelia slide to a puddle at his feet. "No more delays. Your... friends... will have to make do on their own."
Tara stared in horror at the beauty queen on the ground, a dark pool of deep red spreading slowly from her back. "I...I..."
"Now," the dark Vampire commanded, grabbing Tara by the hair. "And you will have your mate disarm their fortress, or I will kill her too."
Spike stood, staring blankly at Joyce. He hadn't prepared an answer for that. To be honest, he hadn't really considered the thought that she'd tell him no and decide to go anyway.
Was that what she was saying?
"Grandmother?" Emma interrupted softly.
"What if I say no?" Joyce asked. "What if I decide ... What if I want to see my baby again? What if I want to see the World? What if I want to see Dawn get married, even if I'd be too young to remember it? What if I want to wrap my arms around Buffy again? What if that's more important to me than... than...? World Peace?" Her voice cracked and wavered as tears decided when to fall. With a sigh, the woman wrapped her arms around herself and stood, planting bare feet in sugar brown soil. "What if I want to go home?"
Spike stared at his own feet, watching the toes of his boots as if they held the answers. To be honest, it was much simpler than that. He knew if he looked at Joyce, he'd cry. Maybe he was tough. Maybe he was part of the most strength and valour the World had to offer...
...but the Summers girls always had his heart, and their hearts were in his care. And breaking even one of them – hell, even making one of them anything but happy – broke a part of himself.
"S'not about World Peace to me either, Joyce," Spike responded solemnly, still staring at the toes of his boots. "Wish I could be all Prince Valiant and tell you it was about saving the World and allowing Emma to meet her destiny. Wish I could tell you that I was so noble as to be willing to sacrifice it all to end strife and all that superhero rubbish." With enormous effort, Spike stood, the weight of all the Worlds crashing down on his shoulders at the thought of disappointing this one woman.
This one woman who'd given him solace.
He turned towards her. Joyce was standing facing away from him with her face towards the mists from whence Spike and Emma had come. Tentatively, he held out his hand, drew it back again, and then summoned the courage to place his palm on her shoulder and turn her lightly to face him.
Which made it even harder.
Golden tears streamed down Joyce's face, leaving glimmering trails of heartbreak. Beautiful, kind eyes brimmed full, the corners spilling under the weight of sadness. Spike felt his own heart breaking watching her struggle. She shouldn't have to. This woman should be the Queen of that house, her Princesses at her side. Not a distant audience to some cosmic play.
But it didn't change the facts.
"S'not about that, Joyce," Spike finally said, his own eyes brimming. "If it were up to me, I'd have you all there for all eternity. You. Buffy. Dawn. The little ones." He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before continuing. "S'not up to me though. I didn't make the rules, nor did you, or Emma, or any of us. But they're ours to play by, nonetheless. But it's not about the future history of the World. Not to me. Not to you."
"What is it about then?" Joyce asked, her voice raw and cracked.
"S'about a child," Spike answered, simply, trying to be as honest as he could. "S'about my child. My children. Buffy's. Were it just about the fate of the Universe, I'd be tempted to say bugger it all and come back to us. But the fact of the matter is, if you do come home... if we could have you with us again... it wouldn't be you. Not completely. Those two demon gits would have control of you again. And they'd make you do things...."
Joyce shuddered, a distant, vague memory of what had happened in the past floating through her soul.
"And they'd have you kill Emma, Joyce. Or try. They'd have you kill Buffy. And I... I love you, you know that?" His voice was beginning to shake as his thoughts began to spiral into horror.
Joyce nodded, her hand over her mouth, considering the consequences of her refusal. "I know."
"But I couldn't let you do that. I wouldn't let you. And I couldn't... I'd never want to bear the weight of stopping you. And you - you wouldn't, you couldn't live with what you'd done. Not you. Not someone like you."
Joyce nodded, a fresh stream of tears carving a path through the ethereal gold of her skin. "I don't want to hurt her. I don't want to hurt any of you. I just... I want to go home, Spike."
With a sigh, he drew her to him, folding her into his arms. "There isn't a day that goes by, Joyce, that you aren't there. That you aren't remembered. So much of you is in them. The way Buffy gets Emma to school. The way Dawn brushes her hair a hundred strokes a night before she goes to bed. Emma's smile." He swallowed, remembering the nights Joyce had fed him hot chocolate and given him a chance to be himself. To be the walking Hallmark card that no one else could have understood at that point. Another crushing blow to his heart.
"You'll love them enough for both of us?" The woman asked, pulling away and trying to adopt her best Brave Little Toaster face.
Spike smiled. "That I will."
Joyce closed her eyes, and with a deep intake of breath, she looked at her family. Emma stood quietly behind her father, the perfect mix of both of her parents. Spike stared at her, wet eyed and kind, even behind the blustery bravado that they all had known in the beginning. Pleading. Hoping. Hating that they had to do either.
"I won't go," Joyce finally said quietly. "I'll stay here."
With a flash, the sky lit to a brilliant purple and a winged horse split through the dusky clouds, gliding to the brown sugar soil and landing in a cloud of golden dust.
Graceful and lithe, the Sky Queen alighted, her tanned bare feet barely marking the ground on which she stood. "It is a wise and kindly choice, my child. One for which you will be rewarded."
A small child, no more than six or seven, dropped down from the winged horse's back after the Queen with the grace of a tiny ballerina. The girl stood next to the Pegasus, well behind the Queen, shy and frightened and lost.
"My Queen," both Joyce and Emma said, dropping into a bow. Spike rolled his eyes and then dropped his head in reverence.
"No need for that," the Queen answered, tipping up Spike's chin with her fingers, before kissing both Emma and Joyce on the cheek and raising them to their feet. "Joyce, as you have made an excruciating decision, and deserve a rest, I ask if you would like to join me in the castle for a while. I have made accommodations, and you should find someone there waiting for you there to ease your pain."
A small smile crossed the woman's face. "Buffy?"
The Queen nodded and Spike stiffened. "You... you can't... you..."
"Not that one, father, "Emma answered smiling.
"There's more than one?" Spike asked, spinning to face his daughter. "And the World hasn't imploded?"
With a chuckle, the Queen intervened. "Part of her was left behind when she died. The part that was a fully human girl. Emma can explain that further, I am sure. However, that part belongs solely to her Mother. I know she will be glad to have you back."
Joyce smiled again, tears still wet on her face. "Is she all right?"
"She's taken to playing with the creatures in the garden. I think she's quite happy," the Queen answered. "Although she will be happier now."
The Queen turned back to Spike. "However, as hard as this has been on all of you, you still have a job to do."
With a shudder, Spike considered what the new torture might be. "What now? Find my own mum and tell her she'll never see anyone she loves again?"
"Your mother is living happily in Wales at the moment. She's approximately sixteen Earth years old and likes Britney Spears and a boy named Ian."
Wide-eyed, Spike shook his head. "What have you done to her?!"
"Told you she liked recycling," Emma joked, wrapping her arms around her father's bicep and resting her head on his shoulder. "Most will come back many times over."
"Britney Spears?" Spike shuddered in disbelief.
The Queen smiled, giggling to herself. "Still, with Joyce having made her decision to remain here in order to protect our families, the task of choosing another soul to inhabit the body of your daughter now falls to you."
"Thought that's what you heavenly types did," Spike snarked, feeling Joyce lace her fingers through his and hold on for their last few moments.
With an air of mock annoyance, the Queen shook her head. "See if I bestow such graces on you in the future. It is an honour to choose." Again, the beautiful Queen smiled, sweeping her hand back towards her mount. "Although I did assume you'd say something like that, so I endeavoured to make your choice easier."
Spike furrowed his brow. "A horse? A defective one at that?"
The Pegasus pawed the ground and snorted. "I'm not defective, Vampire. No more than you are a defective Human."
That surprised Spike. Even the livestock had a voice in Heaven. "Apologies," the Vampire responded, bowing his head.
"Accepted," the Pegasus answered accordingly.
"Not the horse," the Queen interrupted, gesturing for the small child to approach. The little girl left the safety of the creature's wing and glided towards them, eyes huge with fear and confusion. A beautiful young girl.
And one whose familiarity went straight to Spike's heart.
"You recognize her, Spike?" Joyce asked knowingly.
Spike nodded, staring at the lovely child standing with her hand wrapped in the Queen's. "Yes, Pet. That I do."
To be contd.